


February Words #7: Product

by StaringAtTheTwinSuns



Series: February Words (2018) [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Holiday Special (TV), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Bad Cooking, Baking, Cake, Cooking, Life day, Millennium Falcon - Freeform, Multi, OT3, POV Luke Skywalker, Post-RotJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 01:44:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13602957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StaringAtTheTwinSuns/pseuds/StaringAtTheTwinSuns
Summary: It's Chewie's first Life Day after the Battle of Endor, and Han ropes Luke and Leia into making a traditional cake to celebrate. The only problem? Neither Luke nor Leia is such a great cook, and the Falcon's galley isn't exactly a gourmet kitchen. Fluff ensues!





	February Words #7: Product

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, this fic is compatible with the other fics in this series but is a STAND-ALONE ONESHOT... i.e. you do not need to have read the others to enjoy. Silly fluff Life Day cooking fic set a couple of months to a year after ROTJ.
> 
> This is part of a word-a-day prompt challenge. Today's word is "product."
> 
> I love and appreciate all feedback, including concrit. More notes at the end. Enjoy!

Luke Skywalker was good at a lot of things. But cooking was definitely not one of them.

“You’re kidding, right? A cake?” He blinked sleep out of his eyes. And then: “Come on, Han. What time is it?”

“It’s not what  _ time _ , it’s what day. It’s Life Day. So get up, and get in the galley.”

“Mmmm.” Luke rolled over as far as he could in the  _ Falcon _ ’s cramped berth. “In a minute, okay? You’ll wake Leia.”

“Exactly.” And Han yanked the blanket of both of them, exposing half-naked bodies to the cool, recycled air. “Get up,” he said. “Both of you. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

***

“I don’t get it.” Luke snuggled into his poncho. It was, if anything, even colder in the  _ Falcon _ ’s galley. Han, of course, refused to admit that anything was wrong with the heating, but Leia, wearing one of Han’s old jackets that practically swallowed her alive, breathed into her own hands and shot him a sympathetic look. 

“Can’t we just buy a cake?” Luke asked. “I’m… not exactly good in the kitchen.”

“Life Day cakes are always handmade,” Leia explained. “Right, Han?”

“That’s right. And Chewie’s been nothing but...okay about this, right?” He waved his hands around, indicating not the galley, Luke knew, but their whole relationship. Han was right.

“Fine.” He sighed. “But you’ve been warned. My Aunt Beru kicked me out of the kitchen when I was fifteen, and I’ve been in self-enforced exile almost ever since. Remember Yavin?”

“That time you managed to serve us a batch of still-frozen frozen dinners?” Han smiled. “Don’t worry. Life Day cakes are easy.”

Easy, Luke thought, was not the word. Han gave him a bowl of flour and a sifter at sent him off to the far end of the counter—which, granted, was short enough that he still bumped into Leia with every other shake of the thing. By the time he was done, there was probably just as much flour on their clothes as there was in the bowl.

“It’s cold!” He claimed, when Han pointed this out. “My hands are shaking.”

Han took the bowl with what was probably supposed to be an exasperated look, but all three of them were on the verge of laughing.

“It’s not cold,” Han said. “There’s nothing wrong with the heater.”

“Han.” Leia gave him a look. “I can see my own breath.”

“That’s on purpose! It has to be cold. For the… eggs and stuff. Right, kid?”

“For the eggs and stuff?” Luke raised his eyebrows. “Sorry, Han. That kind of professional jargon is a little over my head.”

And then they were laughing, spilling more flour in the process, and it wasn’t so cold at the end of the galley with all three of them crammed in a space meant for one.

“All right, all right. Knock it off.” Han tried to scowl, but it wasn’t very intimidating with flour on his nose. “Leia, I need you to make a stiff meringue now.”

“A stiff meringue?”

Luke couldn't quite tell if she was trying not to laugh, or not to blow up in Han's face.

“You heard me, Your Worship. We’re coming out of hyperspace in an hour or so, and Chewie’ll be waiting.”

He turned back to a bowl of brown mess that was supposed to be frosting, and left Leia—and Luke, it seemed—to the meringue.

Leia leaned close to him, like a co-conspirator, even though there was no way in these close quarters to keep their conversation from Han. He guessed they could try talking through the Force, like they had on Bespin. But Luke was about as confident of his ability to do that intentionally as he was of his ability to make a stiff meringue.

“Since when can Han cook?” Leia half-whispered.

“I heard that,” Han said. “And I’m a great cook! I just usually ask Chewie to do it for me.”

“I don’t suppose you actually know how to do this?” Luke asked.

“If I can remember.” Leia bit her lip. “I did take cooking lessons when I was little. But once I got involved with the Alliance…”

She spooned a little sugar into the eggs and turned on Han’s massive hand mixer.

“That thing’s an antique!” Luke shouted over the motor.

“It’s a classic!”

Leia rolled her eyes. “A hunk of junk’s more like it.”

But it did the job. Whether it was Alderaanian cooking classes or just dumb luck, Leia managed to whip the eggs into something that—at least to Luke’s admittedly clueless eyes—looked at least something like meringue.

“That,” he said, “is actually kind of sexy.”

Han smiled across the frosting. “I agree. Okay, Luke, now add some of this…” He slid a tiny bottle covered with Wookiee writing down the counter.

“Some?”

“A little. Not too much. Just… I don’t know. Shake it a few times.”

Luke unscrewed the cap. “Han, this smells like… tree bark.”

“Well, that’s what it’s made from. It’s good. Trust me, you’ll see.”

The resulting cake was… lumpy. And tree-smelling. And slightly burnt on one side.

“I told you to cook it on medium heat,” Han grumbled.

“Well, there wasn’t exactly a ‘medium’ button,” Luke argued.

“I thought you were supposed to have magical Jedi powers.”

“The Jedi weren’t  _ cooks _ , Han!”

“Enough!” Leia pushed the two of them apart. “I will banish both of you from this kitchen if you can’t get along.”

“Hey! It’s my ship!” Han protested.

“Then sit down, shut up, and do as you’re told.”

Luke couldn’t help but smile, even though she was technically lecturing him, too. Leia was… kind of sexy when she got angry.

Not that either of them were really angry. In the Force, he could feel them bright with love.

Leia took out a knife, trimmed off the burnt part, and tossed it in the garbage. “See? It looks fine on the inside.”

Luke frowned. “But now it’s all lopsided.”

“So we’ll make it even better. Han, mug.”

“Yes, Your Worship.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, but he was smiling.

Leia put the mug upside down on top of the cake, and cut around it in a circle. “Luke, you’re on frosting duty,” she delegated. “Frost the top, about this thick.” She plated the mini-cake and handed it to him.

“I thought you weren’t much of a cook,” Han muttered as she cut another circle.

“I’m not.” She smiled. “But I was second place in the Alderaan Junior League Sculpture Contest when I was thirteen.”

“Sculpture contest?”

Leia put the second cake circle on top of the first one. Luke frosted it; Leia added the third one.

Han’s eyes went wide.

“You’re building the Tree of Life. Chewie’s gonna love that.”

“That’s the plan.” Leia passed the scraps of unburnt cake in his direction. “Want to cut some branches for me, flyboy?”

***

“All right,” Han said. “Coming out of hyperspace in three, two…”

The stars slowed to pinpoints, and the com system came to life with a Wookiee roar.

“Hey, Chewie,” Han said. “Happy Life Day. Of course I didn’t forget. Yeah, they’re here.”

_ Get the cake _ , he mouthed, and Luke and Leia ran back to the galley.

“I just hope this makes it back to Chewie in one piece.” Leia frowned. “I wasn’t think about having to carry it when I made it so tall.”

Luke just smiled.

“What’s so funny?”

“You underestimate my powers.”

She still smelled like butter, and her kiss tasted like the frosting they’d licked off the spoons. And when they came up for air, the cake was hovering—intact—beside them.

“Jedi might be lousy cooks,” Luke whispered conspiratorially. “But we’re secretly pretty good at carrying things.”

**Author's Note:**

> FYI, this is only SORT OF my headcanon. I do think Han is probably a pretty good cook. He's been on his own for long enough that he'd probably have to be. I also think Leia was probably taught a pretty royal version of "the basics," but didn't care about or like it enough to get truly GOOD. I'm not sure I see Luke as QUITE as clueless as he is here. Aunt Beru would have taught him not to starve. But he's kind of adorable, so I went with it. :) Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> ....I also don't think Wookiees eat tree bark but a meat-flavored cake was too gross to think about. So.


End file.
